


Inter-Office Relations

by bren97122



Series: The Old Flame [2]
Category: Control (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, Other, Post-Canon, Romance, Spoilers, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23677273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bren97122/pseuds/bren97122
Summary: (A continuation of Last Night in June)Navigating the Oldest House is hard. Navigating a relationship with an old flame that happens to be an extremely powerful paranormal conduit is also hard. And she's your boss's boss, too.But, it's pretty fun regardless.
Relationships: Jesse Faden/Reader, Jesse Faden/You
Series: The Old Flame [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709185
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	Inter-Office Relations

**Author's Note:**

> As I write this, the world is in the midst of the Coronavirus pandemic. That means, I'm locked inside and have been playing a lot of Control!
> 
> And this the product of it. Enjoy. It is a sequel to my other story "Last Night in June" and will feature multiple chapters with plenty of adventures in the Oldest House... and beyond.

It was pretty easy to see that working for the Federal Bureau of Control would be quite different than any nine-to-five job you've ever had. To put it lightly.

It didn't take too much convincing to get you on board with this. Good pay, _great_ health benefits, and a chance to do something that is indeed very, very interesting.

Not to mention, it's also hard to say "no" when Jesse Faden herself showed up at your door to personally offer you the job.

Jesse. The love of your life, probably. The kind of woman who comes around once and the kind of woman a smart person would never, ever let go.

The last time you saw her, she was on a warpath, heading off to New York City to confront the shadowy Federal Bureau of Control. Nothing would stop her, not even you. She left and you were beyond terrified. A part of you told you that you'd never see her ever again and this Bureau would make it as if she never even existed at all. But, another part of you held out hope that one day, Jesse would come back to you. She made a promise- and she doesn't make promises she can't keep.

However, the last thing you expected was the woman herself to show up at your front door and tell you just what happened over the past year. What you _really_ didn't expect was her to casually slip in the fact she was now the director of the Federal Bureau of Control.

She was more than ready for the stunned look you gave her. Or, rather, the multiple stunned looks you gave her as she recounted what had happened since she left you that last night in June.

The Bureau. The Oldest House. The Hiss. The Board. The Service Weapon. Trench, Darling, Marshall, Ahti. Dylan. All of it. It took nearly four hours and a whole six pack of beer, but she eventually got you up to speed on what mattered. You were sure there were some bits being left out, but, you could forgive that.

Then, there was the matter of Jesse wanting you for her Bureau.

"Jesse," you began at the time with a chuckle and shake of your head, "I- I'm not someone you'd want for this. I've worked on farms most of my life. And need I remind you that I was a janitor not too long ago?"

She had replied with a shrug.

"So was I," she said simply.

"You don't need to be some expert physicist or some genius for this stuff. I promise. You just need to be open minded and accept the fact that reality isn't what's really there," she continued.

She had reached over across your small kitchen table to grasp your hand.

"And I know more than anything that you've never just accepted things for what they were. You know there's more to this world than what we see on the surface," Jesse had said, "and that's why I want you there. With me."

You smiled at the warmth of her hand in yours. Looking up, you catch the look in her cool blue eyes. A look you'd never say "no" to.

"Then I'll have to say yes," you replied.

* * *

At present time, you ask yourself precisely what you got yourself into about fifteen times _per day_.

You're still in the orientation phase, but it's coming to an end soon. Most orientations you've been to involve sitting in a conference room for three hours and watching PowerPoint presentations. This orientation has gone on for five days and involved introductions to paranatural phenomena, Altered Items, Objects of Power, AWEs, extradimensional beings, navigating the Oldest House, and survival during containment breaches.

It's been a jam-packed five days. You're one of fifty or so new recruits. Many of your comrades are struggling to keep up with everything being thrown at them. But, you're doing well enough. You think about what Jesse told you, about how you're open to the mysteries of the world. Perhaps many of the others aren't and you feel they should probably start "looking past the poster over the wall" as Jesse says.

After a long and bizarre test labeled the "Bannerman-Kempf Aptitude Placement Method," you're done. What you just completed was not so much of a knowledge test, but more of a test of one's strength and weaknesses, a way to sort new recruits into areas and departments most suited for their skills.

You aren't exactly sure what your skills are and the questions weren't exactly straightforward. One of the most memorable was:

_You're at a formal dinner party. Your significant other spills wine on the host. The host is very upset at your significant other and begins making a scene. What do you do?_

_A) Offer the host a napkin._

_B) Splash wine on the host._

_C) Splash wine on your significant other._

_D) Arm your significant other and prepare to fight off the rest of the dinner party._

You went with D.

* * *

You're sitting with several other recruits in your group, waiting for the FBC proctor on the other side of the door to give you your results. Everyone's anxious, but excited to see where they'll land.

Many of your fellow recruits are young, around your age. Some are barely out of college. One of your number was recruited out of high school. For many, they had been approached by members of the FBC after witnessing paranatural phenomena in the wild and not reacting with abject horror, but rather with foresight and inquisitiveness. Others were recruited for their exceptional abilities in physics, biology, material science, forensics, chemistry, and a vast array of other fields, none of which you possessed any skill in. You were starting to think this was way out of your league, that Jesse just bought you on because she likes you.

But, then again, the Bureau is an… unconventional place. Perhaps you had a hidden talent.

Your reverie is interrupted by one of your fellow new hires exiting the proctor's office. He's Evan, a 24-year-old U.S. Army veteran.

"I got approved for Ranger training!" he proudly states, pumping his documents into the air in triumph.

You and your fellows applaud him. The cheers die down when the proctor pokes his head out of the office and calls your name. Everyone falls silent and turns to you. A few quiet words of encouragement are given as you enter the office.

* * *

"Diplomatic Corps," you read aloud.

The proctor nods.

"Members of the Bureau responsible for maintaining relations with various organizations and bodies with paranatural interests- of this universe and others."

You scoff.

"What do I know about being a diplomat?"

"More than you think, according to your results. You scored high in empathy, interpersonal communications, and relationship-building. Important trait for those in the Diplomatic Corps. The Method is rarely wrong."

"This might be one of those times," you reply.

"Ever since Director Faden came into office, she's been telling us that everyone has abilities, something hidden that doesn't come out until the moment it counts. We believe these are your talents, even if you don't realize it."

You're quiet. If Jesse believes in you…

"What do you say?" he says.

You nod.

"Then I think that sounds great."

* * *

It is somewhat of a misnomer to say that the Bureau is headquartered in New York City. Rather, the Bureau is headquartered in the Oldest House, which just so happens to appear to be physically present in New York City.

You and your fellow recruits came from across the country. A popular topic of discussion was how you would all afford rent after relocating to New York. But, it turned out such a thing would not be needed. Why?

Through the use of Class 5 Stable Translocation Points located in all fifty states. Of course.

You park your car outside a dilapidated concrete structure that apparently used to be an electrical substation, now co-opted for FBC use. The first few days, you were wary of walking into the place. The ceiling looked like it would collapse at any moment.

But, now you've grown confident. You take inventory of everything you need- your ID badge (don't lose it), keycard, wallet, the fact your smartphone is locked in the car, and your HRA securely fastened around the crisp, white uniform shirt you've been issued. One of several identical garments, which meant that you wouldn't have to worry about your outfit ever clashing.

A hidden scanner by the rusty metal door that says _DO NOT ENTER_ allows you access to the building. Inside is not rust, rats, and asbestos, but a clean, sterile room where a shimmering blue aperture about six or seven feet tall sits suspended in place by all manner of arcane technological devices, the composition and operation of which were probably classified, redacted, and with a dash of [DATA EXPUNGED].

You take a deep breath and leap through it.

* * *

A blinding flash of light later and you're in the Oldest House. Every inch of your skin is covered by goosebumps, but the feeling subsides after a moment. You look around. People are milling about, greeting friends and coworkers as they file through the security checkpoint ahead. Around you, other people translocate from where they reside. Mary Jordan from Central Executive pops into existence and immediately doffs her fur-collared parka, having just jumped in from Anchorage, Alaska.

You pass through security with ease, having taken to heart the dire warnings to avoid any modern technology. You remember the first day, when the new hire ahead of you forgot to leave her FitBit at home, which caused it to melt into her wrist. Not fun.

After being approved and swiped in, you take a moment to look around and gaze up at the impossibly-tall walls around you, the brutally beautiful lines of concrete or whatever it was the House chose to compose itself of.

You smile and begin the stroll to your office.

And thus, week two of your career at the FBC begins.

* * *

Your boss is Andrew Mosley. He's the oldest one in the office and a veteran of many diplomatic graffs in the paranatural world. His face is lean, weathered as a man in his late 50s ought to be, and complemented by a head of graying black hair that still remains full. Good for him.

Mosley nods slowly as he reads the communiqué you've prepared. It's a pretty big one, something of a test of what you've learned so far. It's meant to head to the undersecretary of the Russian Special Directorate for Anomalous Matters.

He eyeballs you, not moving his head up. Your printed out dispatch remains held with both hands.

"You wrote this?" he said.

"Yes, I did."

"By yourself?"

"Yes," you repeat.

Mosley gently sets it down. There is a moment of silence.

"Damn good job," he finally says, "you make it sound like we actually _want_ to work with them!"

You chuckle.

"Did I? Because… I wasn't sure if we were really supposed to like them."

Mosley laughs.

"Eh, it's not my call but… we _are_ an organ of the United States government and officially, our government wishes to cooperate with everyone for a better world- when we can."

"Of course."

He chuckles again, a look of reminiscence upon his face.

"The guy who had your position before the Hiss, he was good at making these official memos that were straight-up insulting our counterparts in Moscow. But, he was very, very good at making them seem like compliments. Now that was a talent. But you, you're good at making things sincere. Or, sounding sincere enough."

You smile, proud.

"Well, thank you. So, everything looks good? I can send this over to Communications?"

"Yeah, just one thing. Delete those last two lines," he replied, pointing out what he meant, "they're a bit… too nice. We still gotta give a bit of the cold shoulder."

"Yes, sir," you cheerfully reply as you collect your paper and walk back out to the office.

No sooner than you've settled at your practically vintage looking (probably is anyway) desk, your co-manager calls your name.

Feddie Bannon turned 30 over the weekend. As one of the few members of the Diplomatic Corps to successfully wait out the Hiss Crisis locked in a shelter, he received a rapid battlefield promotion. He's handsome, younger than he looks, with curly brown hair topped off by a pair of thick-framed glasses.

"Freddie, hey," you begin.

"Hey. Say, I have something special for you to do."

"Special?" you say with a small smile.

"Indeed," he replies, returning the smile.

"What is it?"

He holds up a Manila folder.

"We've put together the director's itinerary as it relates to our department. Now, this is just a bunch of loose papers right now. We have a format we need these things to follow, so it's all nice and official."

Your heart beats a bit harder at the mere mention of Jesse's station. You haven't seen her since you began this job- and you completely understand. To say she has a lot on her plate is probably the understatement of the year. She's doing things completely unknowable to you, things you won't ever hope to understand.

There's nothing more you'd love than to see her face- in person that, is. Sure, you got that portrait of her hanging over the door to the office. Not to mention the many, many copies of that same portrait that litter the Bureau's walls. You do think it's a good portrait. You love how she looks stern, confident, and not in the mood to take any shit.

But, you also want to see the little smile she does when she doesn't want to smile but can't help it. You want to make her laugh at your awful jokes and sarcastic observations. Something tells you managing the FBC doesn't leave too much room for laughter. But, you'll still try your best.

"So, uh, yeah, just compile about neatly according to the template. Get started now, and you can finish after lunch. Deal?"

Your thoughts were interrupted by Bannon. He was probably giving you some important instructions.

Your eyes flick over to the analog clock on your desk. Ten minutes to noon. Almost lunch time for you.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great."

Bannon smiles.

"Alrighty."

* * *

The Executive cafeteria reminds you of the cafeteria at your former high school. Except this one is much cleaner. And the food is better as well, surprisingly so.

You're eating the lunch special today, turkey chili with a side of chips that came from a stark-white foil bag labeled "TORTILLA CHIPS" in black block letters. Your beverage of choice is a glass bottle with a similar white label that declares the contents to be "SWEET TEA." Around you are several others from the Diplomatic Corps who opt to take lunch at noon with you- Cayla, Johanna, Callum, and Eli.

As you eat, the public address system cranks to life.

" _Hey everyone, it's Director Faden. I just want to thank everyone for their hard work so far in getting this place up and running again. It's been a long year, but we've all come a long way. I just want to let all of you know that my door is always open. If you have something you want to talk to me about, I will be here to listen. It doesn't matter if you're a department head or a janitor. I'm here for you_."

You smile to yourself at Jesse's words. She may not always seem it, but you know she always had a heart of gold.

"I gotta say," Eli begins, "working with Faden as director is a lot different than when Trench was in charge."

"Yeah," Johanna agrees, "she's not all doom, gloom, and depression."

You all chuckle.

"Obviously, you know I wasn't around when Trench was in charge. What was that like?" you ask.

"Oh my God," Johanna says with an eye roll, "I felt depressed just being in the same office space as him."

"Yeah. He would never come out of the office. He'd just sit in there all day and… brood," says Eli.

"Director Faden is really, really nice. I always see her walking around, talking to people," Cayla pipes up.

"I haven't seen her," you say, trying to keep your cool. You know that no one is aware of the history between you and the director. It would probably be best to keep it that way.

"Gotta look harder, dude," Cayla replied with a grin.

Eli takes a sip of his drink.

"She's also a lot cuter than Trench, I'll say that."

You all laugh. You hope they can't see the redness in your cheeks and how much you would like to agree.

"She definitely is," Callum said.

"Yeah, who doesn't love a nice redhead?" Calya snickered.

"If you feel that way, you should ask her out!" Johanna said to Cayla.

"Not sure how well that'd go over."

"Probably not great," Callum agreed.

You don't engage your coworkers in this line of conversation. You simply grin softly to yourself as you stir the chili before you.

"Speaking of... I heard something interesting yesterday after work," Eli says.

Everyone turns their attention to him.

"Well?" Cayla says after he doesn't immediately spill.

"I heard the director's old significant other works here now." 

Everyone gasps, which conveniently prevents them from noticing you stopping mid-chew.

"Really?" Johanna exclaims.

"Oh yes. Her old boyfriend. Or girlfriend? I'm not sure, this person I heard it from isn't sure either... but they're here. Apparently... Faden even recruited them personally."

"Well, that sounds like a case of nepotism if I've ever heard it," Callum laughs. 

"It's what keeps America going," Eli said with a shrug.

"That's pretty crazy," Cayla says, "I wonder what they're doing?" 

"Probably in Central Executive," said Callum, "close by to the director's office so they can attend to uh, any special tasks," he says suggestively, causing a renewed bout of laughter. 

You laugh with them, trying to ignore the hotness building under your collar.

"Damn," Johanna muses, "if that's true, that's pretty crazy to think about, right?"

"Yeah," you say, "crazy _indeed_." 

* * *

"And here we are," you announce as you drop your completed director's itinerary on Bannon's desk.

He thanks you and takes some time to examine it while you standby.

"Looks great," he says, handing it back to you.

"Cool. So, I guess I just bring it down to the pneumatic and-"

"Oh, no, no. That is very much sensitive information. We can't send that through the tubes."

"No?"

"No. You need to bring that down to the director's office personally."

"I- what?"

"Yeah, just run it down and give it to her. No big deal. We did it all the time for Trench."

"Uh…" you stammer.

"Don't worry! The director's really nice. This is a great chance to meet her and introduce yourself."

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, folding up Jesse's itinerary.

"Okay. You go and get at it then!"

"Yeah…" you say as you leave to walk to the director's office.

You push open the door to the office and walk out into the hall. You're not sure why you're feeling this way. This is Jesse. You know her, to say the least. Maybe you're nervous because you've never seen her _this_ way. You've always known her as snarky and sweet Jesse, who liked to sit on the couch with you and read aloud from the books she was reading. Not Jesse the Director, a woman who almost single-handedly defeated an extradimensional invasion and now wields extraordinary paranormal abilities.

But, really, does that mean she's changed at all? Changed who she is, fundamentally as a person? You felt it would be hard to completely change Jesse's character. It was part of who she was, even if she didn't exactly let it on.

Your footfalls echoed across the empty corridor in Central Executive that led to the Director's Office. Jesse's secretary clacks away on the keyboard connected to her ancient-looking CRT monitor.

She looks up, regarding you from behind oval-shaped glasses. This woman was Trench's secretary as well. She must have been unused to Jesse's more open policies.

"Can I help you?" she asks in a clipped, business-like tone. No room for pleasantries here.

"Yeah, uh," you manage to begin.

 _No going back now_.

"Um, I have something to give to Jes- the Director. She's expecting me? I'm from Diplomatic."

"Your name?"

You supply it and she nods, picking up the phone on her desk and informing Jesse you're here to visit. The secretary takes a moment to ask for your last name and then gives it to Jesse.

"You can go in," she says.

You nod a "thank you" and begin to push open the door to the director's office. As the door creaks open, you wonder just exactly what you should be doing for this. Do you call her Jesse? Give her a hug? Or is she "Director Faden?" Yeah. That's what you'll go with. She _is_ your boss after all.

You blink. Jesse is sitting in her high-back leather chair, looking at you and grinning softly.

She's wearing the black-and-white director's suit, her fiery hair in an impeccable up-do held in place by a golden hairpin. You've rarely seen her in anything other than a simple ponytail or with her hair naturally flowing down her shoulders. But, this look suits her. All of it. You just take a moment to admire just how amazing she looks. How confident she is sitting in that chair, wearing that suit.

You're proud.

"Hi there."

Jesse is speaking to you.

"Uh, hi, Jes- Director…"

"You can call me Jesse. I think that's okay."

You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Yeah, of course, Jesse. I, uh, have your… thing."

She holds out a hand and beckons you forward.

"Well, let's see it."

You take a few heavy steps over to her desk and hand her the itinerary. You begin to move away, but she signals you to stay by her side.

"You have a meeting with the director of the European Union Commission for Extranormal Affairs. This Friday. That's the first thing."

"I see that. I met that guy once. He wasn't very friendly."

"Oh."

Jesse nods sagely and turns her head toward you. She sets down her itinerary.

"You missed one thing here, though."

You blink and feel your heart falling into your stomach.

"I… did?" you meekly respond.

"Yes."

"What- what did I miss?"

Jesse sweeps up and throws her arms around you, taking you into a kiss. You return it after a long moment, lost for a few precious seconds.

She eventually parts her lips from yours, albeit slowly. She does not release you from her grasp. You'd love to run your hands through her hair, but her new style doesn't allow for that. You settle for softly laying one hand on her cheek.

"You missed me taking you out to dinner."

You laugh and she laughs back softly.

"You scared me."

"Sorry," she says with a grin.

She kisses you again, this one quick.

"Are you okay? How is everything? Everything's so busy and I haven't come around to Diplomatic, I know. I'm sorry."

"Jesse, don't worry. I'm settling in alright. This place isn't that hard to figure out once you get used to it."

She giggles.

"You obviously haven't experienced a real building shift, then."

"Clearly not," you say.

She sighs, content, and releases you. She hops up to sit on the edge of her desk.

"So, you're good, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't worry about me."

She rolls her eyes.

"Of course I'm going to worry about you. I dragged you into this."

"And I accepted because I knew you wanted me here. Nothing I'd rather do, honestly."

She exhales and smiles.

"You've always been too good to me."

"It's what you deserve."

She leaps up and grabs both your hands.

"Has anyone shown you around?"

"Uh, Freddie Bannon did. Kind of. Showed me the stuff that matters."

Next thing you know, she's pulling you toward the door.

"Come on. I wanna give you a tour."

"What? Jesse, I- I need to work."

"I'll have Karen outside call Diplomatic and tell them I'm borrowing you."

"But-"

"Important director business, they won't ask questions."

You laugh once as Jesse continues to drag you.

"Well, you are the director."

"Hell yeah I am. I do what I want. Now stop fighting me and let me take you on the directoral tour."


End file.
